


Merry Christmas

by kikabennet



Series: Raising Yevgeny Milkovich [15]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Car Accident, Christmas, Christmas Morning, Cute Kids, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Married Life, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:36:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikabennet/pseuds/kikabennet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas morning in the Gallagher-Milkovich home</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas

The sound of Ian's phone alarm went off, blasting some obnoxious hit radio song all over the dark and quiet bedroom.

“Mickey,” he murmured sleepily, leaning over his husband to turn it off. “'s four am.”

Mickey opened his eyes, blinking heavily. “Can't we just wait till six?”

Ian sat up, stretching his upper body. Mickey stayed where he was, looking up at him, yawning.

“You awake?” Svetlana asked, opening their bedroom door, holding a cup of coffee. “It's time to get to work.”

Mickey groaned and Ian tugged him out bed, Svetlana watching them patiently and sipping her coffee as they pulled on their pajama bottoms. Ian threw on a t-shirt as well. The three of them went downstairs where several shopping bags were already on the floor.

“Alright, I'll do Yevvie's pile,” Ian called dibs, looking through the bags.

In the Gallagher household growing up, wrapping paper was expensive so whatever little “Santa” brought the kids for Christmas, was not wrapped, but instead, piled together-which made it seem more special in a way. Mickey had had no Christmases growing up, unless hookers and booze counted.

“Gavrel,” Svetlana said. “Mickey, you have Isidora.”

“Fuck that,” Mickey said. “All that girly shit?”

Ian passed him a Toys R Us bag filled with Hello Kitty, Disney princess, and glittery pink and purple things. They worked together in silence, putting each child's toys together like a store window display. Svetlana laughed, holding up a toy dalmatian that beat-boxed when you pressed it's paw.

“That's goin' in the trash,” Mickey said, eyebrows raised.

He took out a large sketchpad that came with an artillery of art supplies like crayons, paint, and markers.

“Who the fuck got Izzy this?” He wanted to know. “This shit's gonna be everywhere but the paper.”

Ian smiled, folding his lips in shyly as he looked away. Mickey shoved his arm playfully and Svetlana grinned at both of them.

“This is fun,” she said. “We should do this every year instead of trading off Christmas eve and Christmas day.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, and got distracted reading a book of wacky science facts that was to go in Yevgeny's pile.

They appeared like children themselves, sitting in their nightclothes, talking in hushed tones around in the lit-up Christmas tree in the dark.

“The cookies!” Ian said suddenly, uncrossing his legs and scrambling to his feet.

The homemade cookies were on the table covered in bright red plastic wrap with a note to Santa. Ian started to tear pieces off and throw them in the trash, but Mickey waved him over and Ian brought the plate and the three of them ended up eating most of them.

Once the presents were put out and organized, Svetlana stood up and stretched.

“I'm going back to bed,” she said.

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey replied, also standing up. He looked down at Ian. “Put that fucking book down.”

Ian put the science book down and stood up too. Svetlana kissed each of them on the cheek and headed back upstairs.

“When are we gonna tell her about the truck?” Mickey asked.

“Not today,” Ian said. “It's Christmas.”

=========

Around six am, Mickey and Ian awoke to hearing Yev click down the hallway awkwardly on his crutches towards the bathroom.

“Need any help?” Mickey called.

“No, I got it,” Yevgeny called back.

They laid awake in bed, listening to make sure he made out of the bathroom okay, and then Ian called, “Yev!”

“What?”

“Did Santa come? Look downstairs for us.”

“I thought I saw him on the swing set,” Mickey added. “But it turned out to be some other fat guy. Probably homeless.”

Ian busted out laughing at that and slapped Mickey playfully. Catching his breath again he called, “Yev?”

Yevgeny hobbled into their room, grinning. He awkwardly made his way to their bed, and Mickey helped him onto it.

“I know Santa Clause isn't real,” Yevgeny told them.

“You do?” Mickey was baffled. Yevgeny had never even asked if Santa Clause wasn't real.

His son nodded and said, “But I'll pretend for Gavvie and Izzy.”

“When did you find out?” Ian wanted to know.

Yevgeny shrugged. “Kids at school. Last year, I think. Plus Donny's parents never told him Santa Clause was real. They always said he's made up and he told me.”

Ian snuggled up beside his son.

“Well,” he said. “You're right. Santa is just me, Dad, and Mom, but thanks for not blabbing it to your brother and sister.”

Svetlana came into the room, holding Izzy.

“Mom.” Yevgeny smiled at her.

“I heard a noise last night,” Svetlana said. “You need to keep this house locked up. There is glitter all over floor and-”

“It was Santa Clause!” Gavvie roared, charging down the hallway into his fathers' bedroom. “Mama, it was Santa! Remember you said you heard someone getting milk out of the 'frigerator?”

Svetlana pretended to be shocked. She said something to the kids in Russian and Izzy grinned from ear to ear.

“Come on, Daddy!” Gavvie scrambled onto the bed. “Come on, Daddy Ian! We hafta go to see the presents!”

“Presents!” Izzy echoed, bouncing in her mother's arms.

“Pull me up,” Ian told them, and let the little ones tug helplessly at his arms.

Gavrel gave up and began beating him with a pillow. Svetlana carried Izzy downstairs and Gavrel and Ian followed. Mickey helped Yevgeny out of the bed and carried him downstairs in one arm, the crutches in the other.

“Toys!” Izzy shouted, wriggling out of her mother's grasp. She immediately went for Gavrel's Ninja Turtle toys first.

“That's Gavvie's, I think,” Ian told her gently. “Look, here's Ariel.”

Izzy glanced at the Ariel doll and took it from Ian. She tossed it over her shoulder and played with things in Gavrel's pile.

Yevgeny flipped through the science fact book. Gavrel smiled excitedly as he pulled a Batman Lego set from his pile. Izzy found her art supplies and asked, “Mama? I color now?”

“Breakfast first,” Ian said. “I'm gonna make us some pancakes and bacon and eggs.”

Mickey sat on the floor sipping his coffee while Svetlana sat on the sofa sipping hers. Ian sauntered off to the kitchen to take his meds and start breakfast. Izzy trotted over to Mickey with a Ninja Turtle play set, thrusting the box at him.

“You want me to open it?” He muttered, already starting to open it.

Izzy sat down on his lap, thumb in her mouth as she watched him grunt and curse with all of the little pieces that had to come apart just to open the box.

“What the fuck?” He demanded when he got the outer box open and came to another cardboard barrier, complete with zip ties.

“You need scissors, Dad,” Yevgeny told him, looking at his new roller blades. The ones that had been purchased before his accident.

“I get them,” Svetlana said, standing up from the couch and scrunching his hair and smoothing out Izzy's. She returned with them and Mickey was finally able to free the plastic turtle from his cardboard and plastic prison.

“Turtle,” Izzy said as Mickey passed it to her.

“That's Mikey,” Mickey told her. “He's the cool one.”

Izzy put on a high-pitched voice and made Michelangelo dance.

“I'm a turtle,” she sang. “I like chicken nuggets and chocolate chips.”

“Little weirdo.” Mickey kissed her cheek, making her giggle. He attacked her with kisses, growling.

Gavrel walked up with complicated teeny-weeny Leggo pieces, whimpering at Mickey. Mickey hated Leggos with a passion. Back in the day, he'd stepped on enough of Yevgeny's to lose a foot. He scooted Izzy onto one thigh to make room for her brother. Yevgeny scooted over to them with his science book, reading facts out loud to his parents.

“Pancakes are almost ready,” Ian said, walking back into the living room, holding a glass of milk. He smiled at Mickey and the kids.

From her place on the couch, sipping her coffee, Svetlana smiled too.

\--------

“Everything's looking good,” Dr. Russo said, checking over Yevgeny's chart. “Yevgeny, you should be moving around by the middle of January for sure.”

“So now therapy, no surgery...” Svetlana said, waving her hand in a circular fashion.

“I think he'll be alright without them,” the doctor agreed, nodding. “He seems to be recovering at a very fast rate.”

Ian, who was there along with Svetlana and Mickey, rubbed their son's hair affectionately as Yevgeny sat on the check-up table.

“He's ready, that's for sure,” he said.

“For sure,” Mickey agreed with a snort. “Kid's ready to take off again.”

Dr. Russo smiled at Yevgeny and said, “You'll be there in no time, Champ.”

Mickey and Ian's brows furrowed simultaneously as Dr. Russo asked Svetlana, “Um, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Whatever you have to say about Yevgeny you can say in fronta us too,” Mickey said. “We're his parents too.”

Dr. Russo waved the idea away casually and said, keeping his voice light, “It's nothing about Yevgeny.”

Svetlana shot Ian and Mickey a confused look, but nodded and followed the doctor out into the hallway. Dr. Russo closed the door behind him.

“What do you think he's saying?” Mickey asked, looking at the door.

“Dunno,” Ian replied, and hoisted himself up on the check up table next to Yevgeny. The paper crinkled beneath him.

When they came back in, Dr. Russo gave them a big smile and clapped his hands.

“Well, Yevgeny!” He said. “I'll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Okay,” Yevgeny said, and allowed Mickey to help him down from the table and onto his crutches.

After they were out of the office and in the hallway of the hospital, heading for the elevators, Mickey and Ian looked expectantly at Svetlana.

“What?” She asked.

“What do you mean 'what'?” Mickey said. “What'd he ask you?”

Svetlana grinned and pushed the button outside of the elevator to open the door.

“He ask me out on date,” she said.

“What'd you say?” Ian wanted to know.

“I say I go nowhere until Yevgeny is better,” she said. “But I let him have my number.”

Mickey and Ian fell silent and followed her and Yevgeny into the elevator. In the faint reflection on the elevator door, they could see she was smirking.

\------

 

“When are we gonna tell her?” Ian asked as he did sit ups on the bedroom floor before bed.

“About the truck?” Mickey asked, watching him.

Ian paused, sitting up, hands behind his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “The truck.”

Mickey removed his shirt and scrubbed a hand down his face tiredly. Ian stopped doing sit ups and looked at him.

“What?” He asked.

“Ian, if that bitch knows who hit Yev, they ain't comin' back,” Mickey said. “And if we tell Svetlana about it, she'll want us to take care of it, and I don't know how without proof.”

Ian frowned and stretched his legs out in front of him.

“Wait, are you saying you don't wanna do anything about this?” He asked, sounding upset.

“I'm saying without the truck we're fucked,” his husband replied. “If we go over and ask her questions, she won't say anything and if we try and make her talk, she'll call the cops on us.”

“Mickey, someone she knows hit our son with a vehicle and left him for dead,” Ian said, his voice raising. He got to his feet, dusting off the seat of his pajama pants.

“I know that,” Mickey barked back. “I want to deal with this. You don't know how hard it's been for me not to go over there and make that bitch talk, but Ian, we need that truck.”

Ian huffed around in circles for a few seconds and then sat down beside Mickey, resting his head on his husband's shoulder. He raised his head and looked at Mickey. Mickey stared back.

“What?” He asked, uncomfortably.

“I think we might have proof,” Ian said, scrambling off the bed and walking out of the room.

“Ian!” Mickey called after him and then muttered under his breath, “fuck's he doing?”

Ian returned with his phone and began scrolling through his pictures and videos. Ninety percent of them were of the kids. Mickey waited, slightly impatient, as Ian scrolled and scrolled. He finally stopped and thrust his phone at Mickey.

Mickey took the phone and watched a shaky video Ian had taken a few months before of Yevgeny riding his bike in circles up and down the street, Gavrel on his bike with training wheels just in front of the mailbox only a foot or two away from Ian, and Izzy dancing around the mailbox post, swinging from it with one arm.

The camera continued to follow Yevgeny, and Ian pointed.

“Look, there's the truck,” he said, and sure enough, as Yevgeny turned to come back around, there was a blue Toyota parked on the side of Mrs. Gerber's house.

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered, as Yevgeny rode back, the other two children chattering and Ian laughing at something.

Ian pointed again as it showed the truck once more. The video ended a few seconds after.

 

 


End file.
